A man's
wealth consisteth not in the abundance of the things he possesseth. More
justly does he lay claim to the name of rich man who knows how to use
the blessings of the gods wisely, who is bred to endurance of hard want,
and who fears the disgraceful action worse than he fears death.
Real happiness consists in peace of mind and heart. Everyone desires it,
and everyone prays for it,--the sailor caught in the storms of the
Aegean, the mad Thracian, the Mede with quiver at his back. But peace is
not to be purchased. Neither gems nor purple nor gold will buy it, nor
favor. Not all the externals in the world can help the man who depends
upon them alone.
N_ot treasure trove nor consul's stately train_
D_rives wretched tumult from the troubled brain_;
S_warming with cares that draw unceasing sighs_,
T_he fretted ceiling hangs o'er sleepless eyes_.
Nor is peace to be pursued and laid hold of, or discovered in some other
clime. Of what avail to fly to lands warmed by other suns? What exile
ever escaped himself? It is the soul that is at fault, that never can be
freed from its own bonds. The sky is all he changes:
T_he heavens, not themselves, they change_
W_ho haste to cross the seas_.
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